


Time Travel Dream Team

by thingamawhatsit



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 16:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7113523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingamawhatsit/pseuds/thingamawhatsit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rip Hunter didn’t really research the team before he brought them together. They just had one really good recommendation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Travel Dream Team

Miranda is everything he never knew was missing in his world. With her in it there are entire concepts, entire world views that are made visible to him. A universe in colors – brilliant and vibrant but also drab and dreary, and every unimaginable thing between – instead of black and white.

Moments like these are ones Rip savors. (Moments like these are ones he never savored enough, however he felt at the time.)

Miranda is next to him in bed. She is unabashedly naked, laying on her stomach, her arms propping herself up so she can look down at him. Her hair a tousled mess around her face. A sheen of sweat along the arch of her back. Her arms gesturing avidly with this point or that, unconscious or uncaring of the lovely view it provides him of her breasts. Face flushed, the physical passion of a few moments ago easily transferred toward intellectual pursuits.

Rip chuckles. "An interest in the early twenty first century I can understand," says Rip, happy to play his part in a now familiar conversation. "Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Barry Allen –"

"Wonder Woman," Miranda interrupts, smiling. She rocks toward him, shifting on her forearm so she can nudge him in the ribs with her elbow.

"Yes, yes. Wonder Woman. If you were a time traveler already I'd lose you to Themyscira." That startles a laugh out of her, just like it does every time. Rip is endlessly fascinated with how genuine this woman is. How she unapologetically finds humor in the same old jokes when Rip has a habit of finding –or feigning - derision for simple minded fools.

"My _point_ ," says Rip, trying to get back on track, "is that there are plenty of interesting, important people in early twenty first century history. And here you are, filling your Dream Time Travel Team with people that barely made it into the footnotes of history. They're practically irrelevant to the time line."

Miranda's eyes crinkled, and she tilts her head at him. The new angle lets her hair fall from her shoulder, and the light through her hair drifts soft and romantic across her face. "That's the point, silly. The big heroes, the names that everyone knows – they're all tied up in fixed points. Whatever they do time will push them along to those moments. It's destiny. But the rest of the world? All the insignificant ones? There are endless ways that their lives can go – more possibilities than there are universes to fit them."

She flops dramatically onto her back. The sheet that was lightly draped over her ass getting twisted in the movement revealing Rip's bare toes and hairy legs to the cool air -- because Miranda is nothing if not an absent minded blanket hog. Rip ducks his head and she narrowly misses his face as she stretches both arms wide, encompassing whatever it is that she's picturing in her head. "If I was going to try and change the world they're the kind of people that I would get to help. The ones that aren't tied down by all the big moments, the great destinies."

He sets his head down on her arm, using it as a pillow, and turns onto his side so that he's facing her, letting one hand fall onto her stomach and trace gentle patterns. "I suppose," he says, still skeptical. "I can even see why you'd take the Cold fellow, every good party needs a rouge or some such." Rip rolls his own eyes at the mention – he'd never been much of one for the fantasy games Miranda played from time to time – but the mention brings a brilliant smile to Miranda's face. It was Pavlovian, the ways she reacted when he mentioned any of her amusements. The way her smiles made him feel..

"What I cannot understand is why you would include some hellion firestarter, especially when you already have an -- admittedly _inferior_ \-- version of Firestorm," he says.

Miranda gasps theatrically, pulling her head back and eyeing him in betrayed shock – leaving her with a still unfairly attractive double chin and bulging eyes. "What Blasphemy is this? Inferior?" She twists again, back onto her stomach, and grabs hold of her pillow. Rising back onto her knees she begins to pelt him relentlessly, leaving him with barely enough time to curl up on himself – now completely naked with the sheet further caught up around Miranda's legs – laughing much too hard to make any sort of reasonable offense in the sudden pillow war.

With one last great blow she wiggles half out of the sheet, throwing one of her legs over his, and uses the leverage of her new position to promptly and ineffectually smother him and his laughter with her weapon of choice.

"Besides," she laughs, "Captain Cold without Heatwave?" She snorts, ridiculously inelegant. (Not that he's horribly dignified slapping the pillow out of his face, and sputtering at the lingering taste of cotton in his mouth.) "I'll have you know there's more to Michael Rory than meets the eye. And what kind of barbaric world do you live in, trying to separate partners like that"

"I'll show you barbaric!"

He flips the two of them over, the last clinging bits of sheet mercifully disappearing between them, and digs his fingers into her sides. He's rewarded with a shriek of laughter, and hands in his hair, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss that's more their lips crashing together in time with her laughter than anything else. She wraps her legs around him, pulling him closer, and he gentles his fingers against her side. A decidedly different kind of shiver runs through her body.

He looks down at her. Her hair haloed around her head. A pleasant flush in her cheeks. A smile that brightens his world, that gentles into something quietly earth shattering under his gaze.

He never does find out what she found so special about Michael Rory.


End file.
